


All This Bad Blood, Won't You Let It Dry?

by paperxcrowns



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Son of Batman (2014)
Genre: Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Character Study, Child Abuse, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, No editing we die like mne, Ra's Al Ghul A+ Grandparenting, Ra's Al Ghul A+ Parenting, Ra's however is a dick, She tries though, Torture, What else is new, and she really doesn't do it on purpose, but it's worth mentioning, but yeah she's still not a good parent, fuck Ra's Al Ghul, it's not explicit, that's why the tags are a little ambiguous here, uh....mentions of abusing and torturing a child, yeah Damian does not have it easy here, yeah that's basically Talia, you know that thing where a parent thinks they're a good parent but they're really not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperxcrowns/pseuds/paperxcrowns
Summary: Talia Al Ghul cared about Damian. He was her son, of course she did. But that was pretty much all there was to it-- he was her blood.
Relationships: Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (past)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	All This Bad Blood, Won't You Let It Dry?

**Author's Note:**

> last night i had an emotional breakdown and ended up going to bed at 3am and getting 3 and a half hours of sleep and then drank a whole monster energy drink and wrote this in 1 hour. obviously i haven't edited it yet.

Talia Al Ghul had been born to an assassin and raised to be an assassin. She was all sharp edges and cutting smiles. She was not raised to be empathetic or soft, with rounded edges and kind smiles, she was raised to be a weapon. She was the best, because she was a woman, and had to be better. Ra’s Al Ghul never thought the best of women, and Talia had sought to prove him wrong. So she killed more, she became a vicious killing machine, heartless, ruthless, without remorse. She removed all the parts of her that cared and shoved them deep inside her, until she became alien to them. She trained tirelessly until she could beat any adversary with no trouble, until no one could beat her. Until there was no error for her father to zero in on. Begrudgingly, he saw Talia’s potential. He admired it, Talia could see it, and she felt proud. Talia was named after the Greek muse. She was well versed in ten different dialects, including Ancient Greek and Latin. Thalia was the muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. Her name meant “the flourishing”. Some days, Talia wondered if this was the Universe’s version of a sick joke. She was the furthest thing from flourishing. She was a killing machine, created by her father, and by herself. She’d cut herself from anything that made her human.

Talia never expected to fall for Bruce Wayne. It was supposed to be a simple mission, but that had quickly gone sideways. She’d fallen, and no matter how she pretended she hadn’t, she couldn’t. And stupidly, so stupidly, she fell pregnant. She never stopped beating herself up for making such a preventable mistake. Of course, after that, she just had to leave Bruce. She couldn’t drag him into her life. She loved him too much for that, and she always knew and feared that she’d have her heart broken if she ever fell in love, because in the end, she couldn’t take someone she loved down with her. She never forgave herself for dragging Damian into that life, but at the same time she was grateful she had someone to care for, someone she loved more than life itself by her side. She faked a miscarriage, and watching her relationship with Bruce crumble to ashes right in front of her, by her own doing, broke her heart.

She took her son back home, to Ra’s Al Ghul and the League of Assassins, knowing she was taking away his freedom with every step she made. Talia named him Damian, a name she and Bruce had chosen for him together. He could no longer be a part of their son’s life, but she allowed him this. Their son was a perfect mix of the both of them, and looking at him was a constant reminder of what Talia had lost. He had her sharp face and green eyes, bright and intelligent, but his dark hair was entirely his father’s.

Her father had started training her from a very young age. Maybe since she was no more than a toddler, still wobbling around and discovering the world around her, eyes wide with wonder and babbling cheerfully. She assumes so, because that was when Ra’s started training Damian. They’d trained the wonder out of him the way they did out of her. Damian had just learned to walk, wobbling around the headquarters when Ra’s took him to one of the vast training rooms for the first time. Talia had been there, because he was her son, and the future leader of the League of Assassins. He was as much under Ra’s tutelage as he was under hers.

It didn’t take long for the laughter and excited squeals that would occasionally echo around the headquarters to stop completely. Talia had noticed, and she felt something tug at her heart. She had been sure she’d cut herself off from feeling, because it made her sloppy and she couldn’t bear to be anything less than perfect. Even with Bruce she had been cold and numb, but Damian brought something out in her, deep down from the depths of her heart and subconscious where she’d shoved every feeling and emotion she knew. She felt angry that she regretted bringing Damian to the League. She didn’t know if she felt angrier about bringing him to the League or at her traitorous heart for feeling remorseful. But in the end, she never stopped regretting.

Damian was three and a half and had come back from his training with his grandfather shaking and covered in cuts and bruises. The moment Talia saw him, she almost took him directly to Gotham and Bruce, and away from the League and Ra’s. He had hugged her and started crying. She hugged him fiercely and told him he shouldn’t cry, because Ra’s did not accept any sign of weakness. In that single moment, nothing mattered except Damian, and however loyal she’d been to her father and the League would never compare to how loyal she was to her son. She wanted to take him far away from Ra’s and the League that sought to turn her son into an assassin just as ruthless as her. She did not.

Damian was four when his mother told him he’d be climbing to the top of the mountain, and that he could not fail. Damian knew what failing the exercise meant, and so he climbed the mountain. He broke his wrist, and more than once he’d almost fallen off the edge, and he was shaking from a deep chill that settled in his bones and left only days later, but he had succeeded. He’d cried when they’d wrapped his wrist and Talia slapped him and told him not to cry, not to show weakness. She’d apologized and hugged him, running her fingers through his hair later, scolding herself for hitting Damian, and promised him she’d never do it again. He’d looked at her with his bright green eyes, that matched hers almost identically and told her he believed her.

At six, he was put in front of a computer and taught to access any and all information, and he was assigned tutors who taught him to read and write. He was the son of Talia Al Ghul and she wanted him to be competent in more than killing. She had argued with Ra’s about his education, an argument she’d eventually won. When it came to Damian, she rarely lost arguments. Months later, Talia watched Damian break into NORAD completely undetected. She’d told him she was proud of him and Damian almost preened under the praise, and Talia felt herself smile. It was a smile only reserved for her son, and it was a smile he loved to see.

Damian did not misbehave. Ra’s had taught him early on what kind of punishment disobeying brought upon him. He was only punished when he messed up. Ra’s only glared in disappointment, but Talia did not tolerate failure. Her son could not be anything less than the perfect Al Ghul legacy. There was no room for error. The first time he’s messed up, she’d only yelled at him, warned him to do better, to start again. But he kept messing up, all the time. He would hold his sword wrong, or his footwork would be off, or he’d let himself get tackled to the ground because of a careless mistake. She forgot the promise she made him, then, when she slapped him and told him to do better. She apologized later, but he just would not listen! And it seemed slapping him was the only way to make him understand what she needed him to do.

Ra’s was not a kind father, nor a kind grandfather. He was an assassin. He had never been Talia’s father except in blood, and it was the same for Damian. Ra’s made his assassins terrified of him, and nothing else. Damian was not his grandson, he was a weapon to be molded, to be trained to fear nothing except the wrath of his grandfather. As Damian grew older, Ra’s trained him for longer hours, and harder, hitting harder, unrelenting. Talia sometimes assisted to their training lessons, watching her son attentively. In those moments, watching Damian take down his opponents, she felt proud. Proud of her son for living up to his Al Ghul and Wayne heritage.

Damian was on the tail end of five years old when Talia first ordered him to kill the man he’d been sparring with. The man begged and sobbed as Ra’s placed a gun in Damian’s toddler hand, his green eyes wide and fearful, his whole body trembling. He hesitated, the gun remaining aimed at the man at his feet, and Ra’s threw a knife at Damian. It landed in his thigh, though Damian had barely flinched, and Talia straightened her back a little more, proud that her son hardly flinched in pain anymore, though her mood soured when Ra’s scowled and ordered him to kill the man. She did not hesitate. “Kill him, Damian,” she told him. Damian’s small chest rose and fell with his deep inhale and he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and Damian flinched back, Ra’s tutting under his breath and Talia’s face pinching. Her son could not-- _should not_ \-- fear killing his opponents. He was an Al Ghul. He was the heir. He was an assassin. It was in his blood, and she would not tolerate weakness. Later that evening, Damian broke down sobbing and would simply not stop. Talia, already short of temper, slapped him and told him an Al Ghul was never afraid to kill and left him alone. When she came back later in the evening, Damian’s tears were gone, but his cheek was purple and bruised. She hugged him and apologized for hitting him, ignoring the slight tremors that still ran down his small form.

To be an assassin, one could not fear death. Fearing death could result in abandoning your post to save your life, a traitor and a coward’s path. And Talia would be damned if she let her son taint their name like that. He knew their family name was important by now. She kept repeating it to him, that he was a Wayne and an Al Ghul and that he had to live up to his name, to bring honor to them. Ra’s had repeated over and over that death was simply a possible outcome, not a frightful thing they should be afraid of and run from when Talia was young. Fear of death meant for a sloppy assassin. Talia did not fear death, and it was a thing most well taught at a young age. The members of the League of Assassins should fear nothing save for the wrath of Ra’s Al Ghul. In case of capture, and torture for information, the only thing an assassin should fear is not the possibility of dying once they’d outlived their utility, but the fear of what Ra’s would do to them if they were to ever divulge any information. That was why it was imperative to Ra’s that every assassin built up their pain tolerance, his children and grandchild included. Damian, still a child and at great risk of dying too easily, was first given small doses of poison that were progressively upped to higher and higher dosages. Talia wondered if maybe she was a bad mother for not feeling guilty watching her child writhe and cry out in pain for hours on end. Maybe she was, but she was an Al Ghul, and she was not an ordinary woman, much less mother, and Damian was not an ordinary child. She, Ra’s and one of Damian’s special trainers were in charge of his pain tolerance, and familiarizing him with every torture technique. It took a year before Damian stopped crying when he left the training room.

Talia had done everything right. Maybe it was something she’d told herself so often over the years it became her reality, or maybe she simply refused to admit she was lacking in certain departments. She’d taught Damian how to read and write, had requested the best tutors to teach him different languages and mathematics. She’d taken him on morning runs early in the morning before the sun warmed the dry earth around them to build up his stamina. She’d taught him to escape any trap or bonds and how to survive harsh weather. But maybe, she thought as she watched her ten year old son sitting in the car next to her, she’d taken away something else. He was the perfect assassin-- even more efficient than her when she’d been his age. But maybe making him the perfect soldier, a ruthless killing machine like her, had cost something she was not aware of. His face betrayed no emotion, he was simply staring out the window, though she doubted he was cataloguing the city, mapping the route they were taking to see Bruce Wayne-- Damian’s father. He was staring at something that only he could see. Neither of them had mourned Ra’s death, though she supposed neither of them had time for that. Deathstroke was hunting them now, and she had to keep Damian safe, and she knew of only one person other than her capable of doing that. Damian was ten years old. It should be normal for a ten year old to mourn a lost family member, but his face was blank. He was not forcing the emotions away, it was simply as if he did not have any emotions to feel. Maybe that was what she had taken away when she’d pushed him to be better, to be perfect, to honor his family name.

Maybe Talia had been too harsh, too sharp-edged, but there was nothing she could do about it now. His father would have to suffice. Maybe Bruce Wayne could teach Damian things she herself had failed to teach him. Talia had just wanted her son to be perfect. He was born perfect, she had no doubts of that, but she did not know how to properly manifest that out loud, she never had, just like Ra’s had no either. Maybe Bruce could do that.

**Author's Note:**

> [feel free to peruse my tumbr](https://blas-ph-emy.tumblr.com/)


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